Come Back
by SylvieT
Summary: My prompts were simple: "I'd like the story to take place just after Sara left the first time." Inspiration taken from the beautiful Pearl Jam song of the same title and from episode 8.08 You kill me. GSR.


A/N: Happy Birthday, Chauncey. Joyeux anniversaire! It's not quite tomorrow yet...not quite, but it was now or next year. ;-) I _so_ hope you like it.

My prompts were simple: _"I'd like the story to take place just after Sara left the first time."_

The song's _Come Back_ by Pearl Jam and the lyrics are in italics in the story. Such a beautiful angsty song…I wonder why me…

Some dialogue I gratefully borrowed from episode 8-08 _You kill me_ and sadly, isn't mine, although I've added a little to it – very, very little.

**

* * *

**

**Come back.**

_

* * *

_

_If I keep holding out, will the light shine through?_  
_Under this broken roof, it's only rain that I feel_  
_I've been wishing out the days... come back._

Her nametag was in the trash and it didn't take a CSI to figure out she'd already slipped away. Gone, unnoticed, ghostlike. He opened her locker, still full of her stuff, her CSI stuff he noticed, not her own but for the photograph of the two of them she'd stuck on the door. He carefully peeled off the picture, trembling fingers turning it round on instinct.

_Keep us safe, _she'd scribbled on the back in a handwriting he did not recognise, the 'e' of safe smudged by a single round teardrop. He felt his finger to the still moist mark on the paper and closed his eyes at the tightening around his heart, the finality of her actions hurting more than the words themselves.

How could he keep them safe - keep _her_ safe - when she'd as good as left him?

He looked down at the note he still held in his other hand, the note she'd so carefully, so lovingly crafted, her goodbye she hadn't been able to say in person, and he clenched a tight fist around it as he desperately fought the foreboding, the doom, the rush of tears threatening to overcome him. His forehead resting against the open locker door, tears he couldn't keep in any longer finally spilled onto her face on the picture, and he could only wipe at them angrily, powerless to do anything else than mourn his loss.

She couldn't have gone far though; she'd only just left. She'd only just kissed him, in front of Hodges of all people, for goodness sake. He should have gone after her then. He should have sensed something was wrong. She'd been so down lately. He should have stopped her before it was too late; before _he _was too late.

He tried her cell again, cursing, smashing the palm of his hand against her locker door when yet again all he got was her recorded message. Without another thought, he took her name out of the trash, feeling as if it were his own her heart break in her chest at how hard it must have been to throw her life away, and rushed out of the building, his cell to his ear as he listened to the never-ending rings of their house phone.

"Come on, Sara, pick up," he heard himself urge desperately. "Honey, don't do this to me. Pick up!"

He took a left turn, wheels spinning uncontrollably out of the car lot, headed home, the words on her goodbye note replaying in a loop in his head. Then he knew. He knew she wouldn't be home; he knew she'd have carefully planned her exit so he wouldn't find her, so he couldn't stop her. Without a thought to his safety, he hit the Denali lights and siren and did an illegal U-turn across four lanes of traffic, headed south toward McCarran.

Wheels screeching to a halt, he left the truck just outside the entrance with the lights still on and ran into the building searching the crowds of people for her face, the back of her head, her silhouette, frantically scanning the monitors for a clue as to her destination, the name of the distant place she was running away to.

He needed to stop her. He needed to be there for her. He needed to go with her.

His mind was blank and he stared at the monitors, unseeing, the words merging into one large, colourless blur and he scrunched his eyes shut at the burgeoning migraine pulsating in his temples.

"Sara!" he yelled silently, pleadingly, desperately, her crumpled note burning a hole in his hand as he stared blankly at the faceless crowd.

He hurriedly moved through the airlines ticketing desks, the check-in area, searching, hoping, praying she'd not already proceeded through security and moved on to terminal two or one of the gates. Then he caught a distant glimpse of her at the bottom of an escalator and without thinking, took off in a sprint, swerving around the hordes of mingling tourists, smiling, laughing, or welcoming with open arms their dear ones. He advanced in fits and starts his eyes steadfast on the slender form moving away from him before running up the escalator steps two at a time.

"Sara!" he called again, his lips not moving as he finally caught up with her.

Panting hard, he placed a hand on her shoulder, coaxing her round, his heart sinking when he realised that the woman wasn't Sara – not even a close likeness but for her long, brown hair. He smiled a crooked apology, closing his eyes, hiding his disappointment, his pain, his feeling of rejection, before turning away despondently, defeated, resigned.

"Sara!" This time, the words came out, loud and clear. His heart beating in his mouth he made a dash for the security area before being cruelly stopped at the entrance. "Sara!"

She didn't seem to have heard him and he watched her move forward in the queue, edging nearer the point of no return.

"Sara!" he called again at the top of his voice so as to be heard over the noise of the crowd but she just didn't turn. Standing on his tiptoes, he craned his neck to the left, to the right before surging forward past the security guard.

The latter gave Grissom a slow shake of his head, one hand pushing firmly against the CSI's chest, the other hovering over his sidearm, his gaze impenetrable, his refusal inflexible. "I'm sorry, Sir, but you can_not_ go through without a valid ticket."

Grissom lifted the ID still hanging around his neck in the guard's face. "I-I need to talk to my wife; it's urgent. Please. It's-"

The security guard's continuous shake of the head put an end to Grissom's pleas and he cast one last forlorn look toward where Sara had been standing a moment ago but she was gone. He was too late; she'd slipped away. He closed his eyes, took a deep fraught breath and head hung low, turned away.

She would call. She would let him know she was fine. She loved him; she'd said so in her note. He had to let her do this her own way.

___I have been planning out all that I'd say to you  
Since you slipped away know that I still remain true  
I've been wishing out the days…_

"Gil…"

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice, so sweet, so low, so sad that he thought for a moment he was dreaming it. Smiling, he let out a breath, a long sigh of relief and turned toward the sound. Her eyes were red-rimmed, strands of damp curly hair sticking to the side of her face where they'd touched her tears and his heart swelled with all the unconditional love he felt for her.

Heaving a shuddering breath at seeing her so broken, he clasped his arms around her and hugged her tight, his head burrowing in the crook of her neck, never wanting to let go. And yet, at that very moment, he knew he had no choice but to let her go.

"I need to do this," she sobbed into his neck, returning his hug with all her might. "I'm sorry."

Grissom's grip tightened around her even more. "I know."

She pushed away from him and looked into his eyes. "You know I haven't been well lately; the merest noise and I jump; the nightmares...I just couldn't breathe-"

His lips pinched anxiously. "You don't have to run away, Sara. We can work through this together. We can-"

"I'm not," she said softly. "I'm not running away. You've got to believe that, but I need some distance. I don't want you to see me like this," she added looking down to the floor self-consciously.

Gentle fingers tilted her head up. "Oh, Sara, you don't have to hide what you're feeling from me."

She tried a wobbly smile. "I'm going to go visit my mother for a while. I didn't know until I got here but it's the right thing to do."

He cupped her face in his hands and pulled her close. "I'm coming with you."

Sara's lips pursed into a watery smile and her hand lifted to his face but by the look in her eyes he already knew her reply. "I can't let you do that."

"I want to."

Her tears fell. "It wouldn't be fair on you."

He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks and lowered his head until their foreheads touched. "_This_ is not fair on me," he said in a whisper. "Sara, I don't want you to leave. I don't want you to leave _me_."

"Oh, Gil," she gasped tearfully. "Is that what you think?" She scrunched her eyes shut, her head shaking, releasing more tears. "I'm not leaving _you_. I'm leaving _me_. I'm leaving myself behind, my fears, my... I don't know why but I need to seek out my past to be able to live my future. And I need to do it alone. I've been waiting for the light to find me but it's not here. Do you understand that?" She took his face in her hands and pressed an ardent kiss to his lips. "I _love_ you. I love you with all my heart but, Gil…I'm falling apart. I'm falling apart at the seams. I need to do this before it's too late and you lose me completely. Please…"

More tears rose in her eyes and he gently brushed his thumbs over them. He had no choice but to trust her and believe in their love for each other, hope that they could – would survive this. Finally, he nodded his understanding. "I love you," he said, "always remember that."

Sara smiled, nodding through her tears. "I know-I will." Her smile broadened. "I'll come back. I'll come back to you." The wedding band on her finger glinted under the airport's artificial lights. "For better or worse, remember?" Her smile quivered now. "I meant every word. This is the worst. The better is yet to come – when I come back, when I'm whole again, when I come back to you – my home."

Grissom nodded and took her hand in his as he had done on their wedding day only a few weeks previously. He looked at her hand, at the ring, a simple white gold band that joined them together till death did them part, they'd promised, and wiped a tear. Oh, god, how he'd meant those vows. He looked up and forced a small smile. "I know I'm not always the most…perceptive of men and I can't say part of me didn't see it coming but-"

She put a trembling hand over his mouth.

"But I'm here for you," he continued earnestly. "Anytime, anyplace – you just call me. You call anyway, all right? I'm only a phone call away – a flight away. Day or night."

Her nod was brisk, happy, definite and he smiled. "You take good care of yourself, Gil, and of Hank. Keep me always in your heart, always." An announcement played over the public address system and Sara pulled back a little. "It's my flight," she said, the words catching in her throat.

His smile was tentative, unsure and scared but his nod was more certain, accepting. He understood. Deep down, he understood. Hadn't he done the exact same thing when he'd gone to teach at Williams the previous year? He sighed, nodding again, but kept a firm hold of her hand even though she'd already taken a couple of steps back toward the security area.

"If I don't go now, I will never be able to," she said, her voice so quiet over the airport's hustle and bustle that he had to strain to hear. "That's why I left you a note. I-I…"

He closed his eyes unable to listen to another word and pulled her sharply to him. His kiss was passionate, frenetic, hard, his embrace desperate and then he pulled himself away sharply, painfully. He stared at her through blurry eyes, willing her to just turn and be gone, too stricken to move himself. She watched him for a moment, tears flowing down her face and mouthed the words _I love you_ before reluctantly pulling her hand back and rushing away, disappearing into the crowd without a backward glance.

He had to believe her words and that she'd find the light and come back to him – it was the only way.

_Please say, that if you hadn't gone now  
I wouldn't have lost you another way  
From wherever you are... come back._

_And these days, they linger on  
And in the night, I've been waiting for  
The real possibility that I may meet you in my dreams  
I go to sleep._

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing, buddy?" Grissom asked Hank with a sigh four weeks later. "Do you think she'll be happy to see me?"

Grissom was lying atop the bed, fully dressed, waiting. He'd been doing a lot of that lately - waiting. For the phone to ring, for the door to open suddenly and her form to burst through, for the sound of her voice to pick up one of his calls or the beeping of his cell alerting him to a text message; or even for sleep to envelop him so she could come to him in his dreams during the long daylight hours. Over the last few weeks waiting had made way to more waiting and wishing out his days and eventually his nights too, and he was…missing her.

"You'll be all right at Jim's for a little while, won't you? It's not going to be for long." He patted the boxer on the side. "He'll take good care of you."

His bag was packed, sitting by the door and he sighed as he checked the time again, wishing he'd called a cab instead of Brass. Without thinking, his hand left Hank's side and reached over to open the bedside table drawer, smiling as he caught sight of the small square velvet box laying there. His heavy heart beat a little faster in his chest and he took it out, staring at it at length before gently pulling the lid open and removing the plain white gold band he'd only wore once the day they'd gotten married.

He closed his eyes and let the sudden surge of emotion wash over him. With no more hesitation, he slipped it on his finger and stroked his thumb over it lovingly; suddenly it was important that he wore the ring, that he felt whole, that his commitment, his love for Sara was there for everyone to see - for her to see. Then, he slowly lowered his hand back to Hank's side and waited some more, his mind drifting to the previous shift's events as he yet again pondered the wisdom of his decision.

"So, you've been pulling a lot of doubles this week," Brass had said casually enough as they walked down the corridor.

"Yeah, it's about all I do."

"You've been in touch with Sara?"

"We've talked a little."

"So where's she at?"

"San Francisco – visiting her mother."

Brass smiled at Grissom's avoidance tactics. "No, I mean - that's nice. No, but I meant where's she at emotionally? You know, with respect to the two of you."

"I can't speak for her."

And as he'd uttered those words, he realised sadly how true they were; he couldn't speak for Sara because despite their frequent talks, he had absolutely no idea where she was at emotionally, whether they were still a couple or not. And if Brass was brave enough to ask the question why couldn't he?

Not long afterwards, as though guilty of collusion with the detective Catherine had come to him full of advice and concern.

"Oh, hey!" she'd said as she fell into step with him. "How are you?"

"Why?"

"I can't ask how you're doing?"

"I'm sorry. I've just have a lot of…" he waved the rest of the sentence off. "I've been busy."

Undeterred by his evasiveness, Catherine persisted. "Oh, well, maybe you should take a few days off for once in your career. I mean, you've got enough stored up. Go after her."

Grissom looked at her with a little surprise. "It's not what she wants."

"What do you want?"

"I want her to be happy."

And again as he'd uttered those words, he realised how true they were: he wanted her to be happy above everything else - above his own happiness even. But was she? Was she happy in San Francisco battling her ghosts all by herself?

Even Hodges had thrown in his two pence worth.

"I am a mere padawan in the presence of the Jedi master," he'd said putting his hands flat together and bowing to Grissom as they finished playing Hodges' forensic game.

Grissom's lips formed into a ghost of an amused smile. "True." He checked his watch, surprised that the time was going so fast, thinking that actually Hodges' game had been a nice diversion from the long hours of wishing out his days he did when he was home. "Let's play another."

Hodges almost looked surprised. "Sure." He picked up the scenario cards and shuffled through them all the while casting furtive glances toward his boss. "You weren't ready - to leave – this; the challenges, the puzzles, the job."

Grissom gave an inward sigh. "No."

"But Sara was."

He hesitated briefly, but what good would it do to deny it? It was no secret; everyone knew. "Yeah, she was."

"You can't stand in the way of that. When it's time for someone to move on, you just got to let them go."

Grissom pursed his face at Hodges' words. "Let's play the game, shall we?"

The tech's face lit up with a smile and he swapped scenario cards. But Hodges' words had struck a chord with him and wouldn't leave him alone. Is that what she was doing? Moving on? And he'd realised suddenly that he didn't want to let her go, that he wanted to fight for her and regain what they'd lost.

"You know what, David?" Grissom had said out of the blue, rising to his feet. "Thank you."

The sincerity of Grissom's words startled the lab tech who frowned a little suspiciously. "Don't mention it," he said over-brightly when really what he yearned to ask was _What for?_ "I'm glad I could be of help," he called over his shoulder as Grissom disappeared down the corridor.

_If I don't fall apart will my memories stay clear?  
So you had to go, and I had to remain here._

_But the strangest thing to date_  
_So far away and yet you feel so close_  
_And I'm not gonna question it any other way_

_There must be an open door_  
_For you to come back._

The knock on the door was hesitant at first, then louder, bolder, more persistent, impatient. He'd only just made it to the airport in time for the flight. Brass had picked him up late and dropped him off, sirens wailing, red and blue lights flashing, no questions asked not even when the captain had done a double take on catching sight of the ring on his finger.

They'd closed the gate after him, the awaiting aircraft door too, and he'd sat there in the San Francisco-bound plane, restlessly tapping his fingers on his thighs, his stomach twisted in knots, wondering whether he should have called her first, whether his visit would have an adverse effect on her recovery.

Still, it was too late now and besides he'd waited long enough. He missed her so much he ached and when he'd watched yet another airplane soar off into the bright sky bound for some distant place, only echoing everybody's words, he knew what he needed to do. He knew that he had to go to her in order to keep them safe.

Catherine had been great, stepping in for him at short notice. She knew of course, without being told a single word of explanation. Ecklie had been understanding too, accepting the sudden request for a four-day vacation starting from that same evening's shift with good grace and a warm handshake.

He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, and then another, before once more bringing his knuckles to the door. At that moment, the door burst open. His words so well-rehearsed instantly forgotten and his smile vanishing, he lowered his gaze to the scrap of paper he'd hastily scribbled Sara's address on. Yet, he needed have checked for the woman who stood in front of him looked so familiar and loved he knew he was at the right place.

"Yes?"

Grissom looked up and flashed a hesitant smile. "Huh…my name's Gil Grissom. I'm-I'm looking for Sara?" He licked his lips nervously, once more glancing toward the paper in his hand. "I got this address for her but…"

The woman's face creased into a knowing smile and she checked over her shoulder, opening the door wider to let him in. "I know who you are." The tone was kind, not accusatory. "She's right here – in the kitchen." Grissom stood awkwardly, his smile a little apprehensive and tense. "Please, come in."

Grissom nodded and picked up his bag, following the woman into the modest house and then to the kitchen where, her back to him, Sara was busy drying dishes. His heartbeat quickened at the sight of her, at her close proximity and he bit the corner of his bottom lip in fearful apprehension.

"Who was it, mom?" Sara asked as she picked up another plate.

"Why don't you see for yourself, sweetie?"

Sara paused and he could very well imagine the puzzled frown instantly creasing her forehead. Then she turned round abruptly, her face lighting up with such a bright grin that all his fears vanished. Her sad eyes shone brighter for his being there, her grin everything he remembered and more, and he knew he'd done the right thing.

Tears of happiness welled in both their eyes and dropping his bag, Grissom closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around his wife's lithe body as a wave of immense relief washed over him. He lifted her up on to him and began laughing as he twirled her round in giddy delight.

Sara laughed through her tears and returned his embrace, her face burying into his neck as she took in a deep, shuddering breath. Grissom closed his eyes, revelling in the feel of her so close he could feel her heart beating in her chest and the warmth of her tears on his skin. Without lowering her, he pressed a series of happy kisses to her face before hugging her again, unable to be apart from her.

"I've missed you so much," she said at last when he put her down, echoing his thoughts.

As though suddenly remembering her mother, Sara pulled back and keeping a tight hold of his hand turned round, beaming. "Mom, this is Gil, my husband," she said excitedly, wiping the back of her hand over her cheeks. "Gil, this is my mother Laura."

Looking delighted at her daughter's joy, Laura reached over to squeeze Sara's arm before flicking her wide smile to Grissom. "Nice to meet you, Gil. I've sure heard all about you. Sara, why don't you make Gil a drink and take him to the porch while I finish here? I'm sure you've got plenty to catch up on."

"She seems nice," Grissom said a little hesitantly as Sara led him by the hand to the back of the single-storey house.

Sara put her drink on a wooden table and took a seat on the old wooden porch swing near it. "She is, but let's not talk about her for now. You two can get properly acquainted later." She grinned delightedly and patted the seat next to her. "I can't believe you're here," she said unable to contain her sheer happiness from her voice. "Come and sit beside me. I want to share this with you."

Grissom eyed the porch swing and the roof fixings with distrust. "I'm not sure whether I should. I looks kind of old and-"

"It'll be fine; I've been restoring it to its former glory. It just needs a lick of paint."

"All right." Grissom perched one buttock on the seat and then another. Before long Sara pulled him closer to her, snuggling up to his side and exhaling a long sigh of relieved pleasure. She tucked her feet underneath her legs and Grissom relaxed. He leaned back onto the swing, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, almost as though they'd never been apart and were sitting in their own backyard gazing at the stars.

"I used to love sitting here when I was little," she said after a moment, breaking the companionable silence.

He turned wide eyes at her. "This is _the_ house? Your old house? The one where-" Sara turned and nodded uncertainly. "And you're okay with it?"

Her shoulder rose. "Weird, huh?" She turned back toward the distant point on her right she'd been staring at, her face taking a wistful look. "I'd forgotten about the view. Look at it; it's absolutely mind-blowing, isn't it?" She paused, her expression darkening slightly. "I'd forgotten about a lot of things."

Grissom followed her gaze and noticed for the first time the leafy tree tops swaying in the warm breeze in the foreground below, followed by the long expanse of emerald green rolling hills in the distance leading toward the immense blue of the Pacific where it made one with the sky. "It's breathtaking," he whispered in a gasp as he made out the faint outline of a passing ship in the hazy horizon. Then he chuckled. "So this is what you've been gazing at while we were on the phone. It's…"

"Cathartic," Sara finished for him and he understood that this view, this place was a welcomed change from the desert landscape she was forced to stare at back home and which no doubt in itself brought back so many painful memories. "I seemed to have erased from my mind all the happy memories from this place, you know, from before...and making new ones now kind of helps with the healing."

Grissom nodded silently and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"My mother's even kept our old swing over there," she went on pointing toward the bottom of the hill. Then she turned toward him, shifting on the seat until she faced him and he could only smile wistfully at the sparkle, the glimmer of her former self lighting her eyes. "How did you find me?" she said after a moment, startling him out of his trance.

He shrugged and pushed back a strand of hair behind her ear. "I had your number."

Sara nodded. "I'm glad you're here. I'd have told you where I was staying but I thought you might-"

He brought an index finger to her lips. "Let's not talk about this now; let's make the most of here...now. Us. We have four days together, and then I have no choice but to get back but in the meantime-"

Sara brought a hand to his face and stroked her fingers over his clean-shaven cheek. "You know I'm not ready to come back yet, don't you?"

He turned his face in her hand and kissed its palm. "I know. That's not why I'm here." He shrugged. "Hodges said something and…I just had to be here, to see you, to hold you – make sure you were happy, happier. And you are. I miss you."

"I love you."

The wind got up, blowing her hair into her eyes and he softly pushed it away so he could look into the depth of her soul. Her eyes shone brighter than he'd seen them in a long, long time and the emotion he read in them filled him with love and hope and confidence that with time they'd prevail.

He smiled his crooked smile and kissed the tip of her nose. "I love you more."

_And the days, they linger on  
And every night, what I'm waiting for  
Is the real possibility that I may meet you in my dreams_

_And sometimes you're there_  
_And you're talking back to me_  
_Come the morning I could swear you're next to me_

_And it's okay._


End file.
